


Skin

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Edgeplay, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4677065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You like that?” Dean asks, amused, and Castiel nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin

It’s been thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of toe curling, open-mouthed panting, sweat-induced pleasure, and Dean’s doing his _damnedest_ to make it last, make _him_ last for as long as possible. Not that Dean’s getting anything out of it for himself, anyway—right now, it’s solely for Castiel, on the pretense that Sam is across Des Moines interviewing witnesses about their thought-to-be dead relatives wreaking havoc across the suburbs, giving them an hour or two alone, undisturbed.

Admittedly, Castiel never figured he would end up _here_ , naked in Dean’s lap with his legs around his back, leaning back with his hands gripping Dean’s knees, the only thing keeping him upright. Because this—this is new; this is _torture_. They’ve been at it for longer than he cares to remember, Dean’s fist curling wet around him in slow, teasing strokes, his cock angry and red in his grasp, leaking more and more precum with every touch. And Dean watches him with a glint in his eye, occasionally reaching up to pinch his nipples, already abused and peaked with continued ministrations, but never for long enough.

“You like that?” Dean asks, amused, and Castiel nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He can’t look away, can’t stop staring at his dick disappearing into Dean’s fist, stroking him from base to tip in leisurely drags, hips following after in aborted thrusts. Part of him wants to reach out and touch, to shove Dean back into the sheets and rut against him until he comes, Dean’s cock already a hard bulge in his jeans, a wet spot already forming at the clothed head. But that’s not what this is—Dean wants him to feel it, to bring him to the brink over and over, to let him _really_ know what pleasure is and how it can be manipulated, how he can coast at the very edge and be brought back down, only to start again.

Admittedly, it’s the most exhilarated he’s felt in a while. “Bet you could without me touching you,” Dean comments, twisting his hand over the head of his dick, Castiel panting out a moan in reply, tilting his head to the water-stained roof. “Nuh uh, look at me.”

Abruptly, Dean lets go, Castiel growling low in his throat and butting his knees into Dean’s ribs. _He’s incorrigible,_ he scowls when Dean smirks back at him, cheery and content, like he isn’t determined to kill him before he can even orgasm. “How long are you planning on doing this?” Castiel asks, breath hitching when Dean palms him again, fingers caressing his balls, already drawn up tight against him; he can’t help the groan that escapes then, Dean working them in his hand while he thumbs his nipple, Castiel tightening his grip on Dean’s knees in retaliation. “ _Dean_ —.”

“Shh, you’ll get there,” he coos, and Castiel almost _loses_ it.

Dean keeps with his near-glacial pace after that, rewetting his hand with lube and rubbing his cock with measured strokes, Castiel biting back whatever moans he _could_ be making, just out of spite. Because as much as he hates to admit it, Dean has him right where he wants him. Normally, it’s the other way around, with Dean on his knees begging for his cock or his fingers, whatever he can get inside him. How he wandered into _this_ , though, he still doesn't know whom to blame. With hazed eyes, he watches Dean’s hand once more, oddly entranced with the slow shifts of his fist, the occasional twist that has his toes curling at Dean’s back, the way his cock leaks even more fluid, mixing in with the slick gel coating his dick and everything in between.

He almost comes right there.

Dean catches him before he does, dropping his hand and stroking his dry one up Castiel’s thigh, far enough away to not catch his attention. He wants it though—his body aches for it, his release almost in sight, cock practically begging for it, for _any_ sort of attention, curved into a hard line between his legs. “ _Dean_ ,” he pleads, not even shamed to admit it. If anything, he knows Dean gets off on it, purely from the idea of a _human_ getting off an _Angel_ with such a carnal act, his touch weighted with lust and _want_. And Castiel wants him, too.

“Gettin’ so close,” Dean taunts, reaching up to tease his nipples once more, Castiel attempting to close his legs in vain. “C’mon, you wanna come, Angel?”

“ _Please_.” It’s the only word he can think of, the only one that doesn’t involve him threatening his life or intentionally kneeing his ribcage. Dean lets him have what he wants instead, both hands on him now, the one over his cock speeding up ever so slightly to give him enough friction to thrust up in to, the other pinching his nipple, harder still, Castiel crying out with the duality of it. His feet twist and curl absently in the sheets, hips following Dean’s fist as he speeds up, faster now, cock thickening in his grip. He feels it at the base of his spine, the pressure that’s been taunting him for the past hour working its way through him, thighs tensing in anticipation. _Finally, finally_ —.

And for a final time, he throws his head back, mouth opening around a groan, barely forming Dean’s name before both hands abandon him, leaving him to thrust into nothing. Even then, that's enough—his hips flex upwards a final time as his orgasm overtakes him, cock spurting white across his chest and abs as he comes with a loud moan, thick ropes that never seem to end; Dean pets his thighs and balls through it, Castiel barely aware of the eyes on him until it’s over and he’s covered in his own release, a few specks dripping down his flank into the sheets.

“Let go,” Dean says, _finally_ , and Castiel lets go of his knees, falling back with a thud into the motel comforter, Dean laughing at him about _something_.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Castiel mumbles once his body unclenches, leaving him a useless puddle on the bed, Dean running his fingers over still trembling skin. Absently, he opens his legs further in Dean’s lap, knowing the sight he makes, knowing what Dean plans to do next. They still have time, more than enough for Castiel to get Dean how _he_ wants him, on his back with Dean’s cock in his ass, making him take every _inch_ of him.

“It’s kinda funny,” Dean chuckles, lowering Castiel to the bed and kissing a path up his chest, licking up every trace of cum. Castiel strokes his hair as he moves, purring with the warmth he feels in his chest, with the reverence Dean treats him with, until their lips meet and Dean ruts against his spent cock, Castiel riding his thrust in invitation. “ _Fuck_ , Cas—.”

“In me, Dean,” he orders with a grin, fisting Dean’s hair with both hands; Dean gasps, mouth hanging open with Castiel’s next words. “You’ve had your fun. Now, it’s my turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...I don't even know anymore. I have two short stories to write and so many other things and instead I'm writing short smut. At least it's fun? First week back at school and I already have homework, I don't like this.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/loversantiquity). Talk to me! I'm nice.


End file.
